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Cutter
Driving the biggest SUV offered as a lease, I turn left down Carver Court and look at the large GPS screen and see the red pin at the end of the No Outlet street. The distance between my rented house and the neighbors is far enough that I actually feel a tiny bit of relief. Trust me though, it’s not much.
The dead end street curves a little to the left, actually providing the house with some well-respected shade from sun and people.
The SUV gives a little hop as it moves from the road to my driveway.
I put the lumbering vehicle into park and sit there, staring at the nice-sized house.
Far too big for a single guy like me, but as my agent - Tony Smothers - said to me, I need this place.
I need this place. I need this little town I’ve never been in before.
Most of all, I need the local indoor pool.
The sooner I finish my rehab, the sooner I can be back at second base for the Jersey Cawlee and back to my version of normalcy.
It didn’t have to be this way. Me being stuck in some small town in Pennsylvania, all but hiding from the world at the moment. All at the suggestion of Tony and an overpaid PR firm that suggested I vanish from the limelight until things calmed.
You might be asking yourself, what things…?
To put it in simple terms of how it’s been played out on social media?
Some kid asked me for an autograph and I pushed his elderly grandmother in front of a moving car.
Now before anyone goes and joins the We Hate Cutter Buckley Fan Club (the admission is free, from what I’ve heard and read) we should back up a few breaths. I’m not exactly known for being the calmest guy in the room or out on the field, so if I’m saying to take a deep breath, you know it’s some serious stuff.
Let’s go back to the injury.
What should have been a routine double play ball…
Smitty throws a fastball down the middle to Tucker. Tucker swings for his life but gets on top of the ball. The ball ends up flying right back at Smitty. He panics and drops down to the mound. The ball clips the edge of the mound and flies into the air where I have to make a stellar jumping catch.
And to think I was always told my six-foot-seven height might get in the way of a baseball career… meaning coaches wanted me to play basketball or something else…
I made the catch.
The crowd cheers for me.
All is right. Until it’s not.
Well, here comes the dirtiest player in the game running at me.
Steve Ublan.
He’s charging at me like a bull to the color red. There’s always a lot of controversy when it comes to plays like these. Who should and shouldn’t protect the plate. If the runner should dive, slide, run… I mean, the argument can go on for years.
The point being is that my right foot touches the bag and that’s it.
Ublan is out.
But that’s not the game Ublan plays.
In hindsight, I should have known. Personally, I wanted the double play. The highlight of my catch, getting Ublan out, then throwing Tucker out.
Ublan claims later that he didn’t realize my foot was on the bag all the way. He claims from his angle I wasn’t touching so he had to make a move.
